


Incept

by house_of_lantis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: Inception AU; Doesn't every fandom have an Inception AU fic?





	Incept

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part of my Marvel one-shot fic collection (now deleted).

**The Dream World – Level 1**

**Mark: Alexander Pierce**

 

Steve walked along the black and white marble floor of the Silver Corridor in The Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. He was smartly dressed in a black tux and white shirt, his left hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored slacks, hand curled around his totem, a small red ball with white and blue circles, a white star in the center. Beautifully dressed people mingled along the hall, the doors opened to all five of the gorgeous ballrooms. Music filled the air, pouring in discreetly from the small but expensive speakers that lined the hallway; champagne fountains flowing in cool and delightful rivers; the professional wait staff ready and willing to serve every patron’s indulgences.

“Cap, on your left,” Clint said into Steve’s earpiece. “Mark is heading into the Grand Ballroom.”

Steve brushed his right hand down the lapel of his jacket, acknowledging Clint’s direction. He took a few steps and walked into the four-story ballroom, taking a moment to look at the intricate details – the two-tiered balconies overlooking the floor, the 16-foot chandelier, the symphonic orchestra playing on the stage. This would be his last time world-building; he could no longer trust his mind. He had recruited Natasha to take his place as the Architect for all future jobs. He knew he should’ve allowed her to build the world, knew the risks involved, but Steve wanted to be the done to take down Alexander Pierce.  

“Fifteen minutes,” Phil said, his voice calm and clear.

“Start the clock,” Steve murmured, turning his head to the side and clearing his throat.

He took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and mingled among the guests, the glitterati of New York’s high society. He didn’t recognize any of the faces, but these were the men and women peopled by Alexander Pierce, President of HYDRA Industries.

“To your left,” Hawkeye intoned.

Steve took a sip of his champagne, his senses noting the refreshing taste, the feel of the expensive bubbly on his tongue, and looked to the left to see Pierce engaged in a lively conversation with a number of people fawning over him.

“Look at that asshole, even in his dreams, he was so full of himself that they’re all hanging on his every word,” Clint muttered, coldly.

“Cut the chatter, Hawkeye,” Steve said, firmly. “Phil, do you see where Pierce put the object?”

“It’s on his right wrist, the watch,” Phil told him, passing Steve and giving him a cordial nod.

There was an odd shake in the room, the champagne fountain trembling for just a moment. Steve watched as Pierce took a sip of his champagne, blue eyes darting around the room, and then returning to his guests with a forced jovial laugh.

“We’re running out of time,” Steve said into his discreet microphone. “Keep an eye out for unexpected visitors.”

“Isn’t he an  _expected_   visitor by now?” Clint said, his voice tense.

Steve finished his drink and set the glass down on a nearby table. “I’m going in.”

“Twelve minutes,” Phil warned, watching Steve’s back.

HYDRA security guards walked into the room, looking around. Steve forced a smile onto his face and made his way towards Pierce, standing at a polite distance, waiting for the right moment to step in.

“Mr. Pierce, it’s an honor to finally meet you,” Steve said, stepping towards the older gentleman.

Pierce turned and looked at him, blue eyes narrowing slightly. “You look familiar, have we met before?”

Steve went into his aw-shucks routine. “Well, we might have, at the last one of these shindigs I imagine. My name is Christopher Evans. Of Evans Technologies.”

Pierce stared at him blankly for a moment and then broke into a wide smile. Steve shook Pierce’s hand firmly, clasping his other hand gently and slipping the clasp of the watch, stepping closer towards Pierce with a more intimate smile.

“The pleasure is mine, sir,” he whispered, smiling shyly. “I’ve admired you for so long, I admit that I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for years.”

Steve removed the watch from Pierce’s wrist and held his hands behind his back, straightening his shoulders. He felt Phil walk past him, brushing against his shoulder accidentally.

“Oh, my apologies,” he said, taking the watch from Steve.

Pierce laughed, meeting Steve’s eyes; he was utterly flattered and very interested. “Well, in that case, I must set aside some time for you later tonight. Have you been to the Basildon Room? They have a perfect replica of an 18th century Parisian marble fireplace. The architecture of the room is quite…stunning.”

Steve ducked his chin shyly and met Pierce’s predatory gaze. “I’d be honored.”

He wanted to vomit in his mouth.

The room trembled again, the chandelier above clinking as it shook. His time was running out; they still needed to get out of the hotel and out of Pierce’s dream.

“Well, then, I’ll see you there shortly,” Pierce said, dismissing him as he turned to talk to his other guests.

Steve gave a quick nod and walked slowly across the room, heading to one of the exits. The crowd of people in the ballroom seemed to have grown exponentially, causing him to bump into a few guests, causing a small commotion. He was starting to draw the attention of the HYDRA security guards, a tall, gruff looking man talking into his walkie-talkie as he stared at Steve, heading towards him.

“I’ve spotted the Winter Soldier,” Clint shouted into his earpiece. “Six o’clock! He’s heading to you, Cap!”

Steve heard the feedback loop through the room’s speakers and he winced, pulling the earpiece out and tucking it into his pocket.

“Exfil now,” Steve said into his microphone, pushing past the guests and hurrying out the exit door and running up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time, heading to the roof exit.

The building started shaking even more, chips of wall plaster falling on him. He was at the tenth floor now, the eleventh, the fourteenth. In the dream world, Steve could run up 47 flights without breaking a sweat. He burst out of the roof access door and saw Phil waiting for him, sliding the clip into his Sig Sauer and handing it to Steve.

“I already sent Hawkeye ahead. Make it quick,” Phil said, grinning slightly at Steve.

Steve shot him point blank between the eyes and pulled back the slide to chamber the next round for himself.

“Rogers.”

He turned to see Bucky walking towards him across the roof. He was dressed all in black, hair long and stringy, a messy stripe of black across his eyes. His left arm was silver and bore a red star. He stalked towards Steve, an ugly smile on his handsome face.

“Long time no see, Stevie,” he said, voice low and raspy.

“You can’t keep sabotaging my work, Buck,” he said, sadly.

“Don’t you miss me, sweetheart? Why did you leave me behind? What happened to the end of the line?”

Steve pressed the gun under his chin and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll always love you, Bucky.”

And pulled the trigger.

“—the fuck! What the hell took you so long?” Clint hissed at him, pulling the needle out of Steve’s wrist. “He’s going to wake up any second now!”

The steam of the sauna and the false-memory pain of shooting a bullet into his brain were disorienting, but Steve knew how to pull it together. He looked over to Alexander Pierce starting to stir; Phil carefully pulling the line out of Pierce’s wrist. He placed his fingers against Pierce’s throat, checking his pulse, and nodded to Steve.

Clint picked up the PASIV as Phil gathered up all the lines, closing the silver case. They left the sauna quietly and discreetly, pulling off the “Closed for Repairs” sign that they had taped up after Pierce took his usual 2 o’clock room.

“Nat and Bruce have the van out back,” Clint said, leading the way out of the private health club’s labyrinthine halls to the exit doors at the street level.

Bruce pushed the van’s side door open and Phil, Clint, and Steve slipped into the van, Steve pulling the door shut behind him.

“Let’s go,” Steve said to Natasha, nodding to her.

“Did you get it?” Bruce said, turning around to look at Steve.

“Yes,” Steve told him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his totem. He bounced it on the floor of the van, catching it in his hand. He knew that if it bounced, that he was back in the Real World. He took a deep breath and put his totem back into his pocket. “Bucky was there.”

The silence of the van was a heavy chill.

Natasha looked at Steve through the rearview mirror. “Who the hell is Bucky?”


End file.
